


Love Is A Loaded Gun - An Episode 10 Remix

by sleepylotus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: Picking up at the end of episode 10...Beth knows the penalty for what she's done in Rio's world is death. But there are some things Beth doesn't understand, which Rio intends to clarify.~*COMPLETE*~





	1. Happy Anniversary!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been racking my brains about a good solution for the shenanigans at the end of Ep 10. It annoyed me that Beth had been such a baddass but in this episode she kinda lost her shit at the end and started crying. I love how many solutions you guys have come up with! Here's my take...

"I ain't going to kill nobody, darlin'. _You_ are."

With her heart in her throat Beth watched as Rio racked the slide of the golden gun and slid it across the table to her. Tears burned her eyes and streamed down her cheeks but she knew this was no time to panic. That strange calm she'd never known she possessed until she had a gun pointed at her head for the first time settled over her, and she reached for the gun.

Rio watched her with a feral delight as she weighed it in her hand, those dark eyes shining, _daring her._

"I never wanted you dead, Rio." She congratulated herself that her voice sounded somewhat even, somehow working past the knot in the back of her throat.

His grin widened as she hit the button to eject the clip. It was full of rounds, heavy in her hand, and she set it down on the table with a _thunk_.

_Dear God, he actually gave her a loaded gun._

Did he think so little of her, that he thought she really couldn’t use it? She looked at him sitting at her table, his hand on Dean’s neck in a false gesture of bonhomie. He was cut and bruised and the most _undone_ she’d ever seen him, and goddamn if he wasn’t still _beautiful_. She felt her heart fall like a stone.

Maybe he was right, that she couldn’t shoot him, but it wasn’t because she didn’t have the courage. It was because she cared about the smug son-of-a-bitch—but maybe he knew that too.

"I just wanted you to go somewhere you couldn't kill me."

She continued to disassemble the gun, ejecting the round from the chamber and removing the slide.

YouTube was an endless treasure trove of useful information.

With the gun in pieces set out neatly on the table, Beth dared to take her place at the other end, folding her hands neatly before her. Mockingly Rio emulated her, leaning forward in his seat. He looked _eager_ and dangerous and even with the abrasions on his face—maybe even more so because of them—good enough to _eat_.

She really was _depraved._

"You gotta explain somethin’ to me, _Elizabeth_ , cause I’m havin’ serious trouble makin’ the leap of logic here. _How_ did you get ‘ _I'm going to kill you’_ out of _‘Go home.’_ ?”

"You looked at me funny."

Rio raised one angular brow, and for one breathtaking moment his eyes were the flat black of a shark’s. It was like looking death in the face, and a chill slid down Beth’s spine. That look scared her more than what he’d done to Dean. It scared her more than the gun.

However, it _wasn’t_ the look he’d given her at the loading dock.

Had she really made such a grave mistake?

"You were willing to _put me away_ because I _looked_ at you funny?"

"You were upset."

"Yeah, but you were the one throwin' keys," he pointed out, narrowing his eyes to slits.

"I knew too much,” she insisted. “There was no way you could let me go."

She kind of felt like she was desperately grasping at straws now, willing him to understand.

_As if he would show mercy now?_

The penalty for what she’d done in his world was _death_. Snitches get stitches? No. Snitches get cut up into pieces and put into barrels… She knew that, deep down. But Rio’s voice remained calm. “You didn't know nothin’ that wouldn't also incriminate yo’self, Mamma. Just admit it. You got scared, and you overreacted."

Beth looked at Dean's ruined face. Thus far her mangled husband had sat quietly where Rio put him, aside from a pained moan here and there.

"You're going to preach to _me_ about overreacting?"

A dangerous half smile pulled at the corner of Rio's mouth. "From what I understand this motherfucker deserved a good ass whoopin'."

Beth turned to look at Dean, wondering how much Rio knew. How much of this damage was from the car wreck and how much from Rio's fists was hard to say. "You have no idea," sighed Beth, sitting back a little in her chair. She had to think, and so she thought to buy herself some time. Fingering the clip filled with shiny brass bullets, she removed one and tossed it in his direction. "Smooth move, Dean. Faking cancer to get back into my house. And to think I almost felt sorry for you."

Rio propped his head on his hand, giving Dean that masculine look of _you're in for it now._

"Bethy..."

"Do me a favor and never call me that again." She threw another bullet at him. It missed, but he still flinched. It was strangely satisfying, and Beth wasn't sure she liked this part of herself that enjoyed that.

Rio, however, seemed to be enjoying it a great deal, that dangerously amused sing-song lilt returning to his tone. "You know those go a lot faster if you put them in the gun?"

"So I hear. But I don't really want to shoot him, and I don't want to shoot you, even if maybe both of you deserve it.” She took a deep steadying breath, struggling to inflate her lungs past her madly beating heart. “What happens now?"

She and Rio weighed each other with one of those long intense looks she somehow loathed and _craved_. It felt like an eternity passed before Rio finally spoke.

"I think I need to show you somethin’."

Beth's heart leapt in her chest as he stood from his chair.

Was this _it_? Maybe the gun was in pieces, but he didn’t _need_ a gun to tear her apart. If he could do _that_ to Dean…she had no chance. Slowly Rio rounded the table, his eyes all for Beth. When he leaned down upon the arms of her chair she flinched, holding herself as far back in the seat as she could, for all the good it would do. She couldn’t really stop herself from closing her eyes, waiting for it to begin. Would it hurt?

_Of course it will hurt, idiot._

His long fingers slid around the narrow column of her throat, and she waited for him to squeeze.

It seemed like hours passed as she waited, trembling in her seat, but he simply caressed the skin of her throat lightly, feeling her madly fluttering pulse against the pads of his fingers.

“Elizabeth.”

She didn’t dare open her eyes now.

“ _Elizabeth_.”

When she still refused to give him her attention he gripped her hair at the base of her skull, firmly but not painfully, and turned her face up to his. Her eyes flew open, finding him mere inches away. “I’ll spell it out for you this time,” he said quietly. “I ain’t gonna hurt you tonight, even if maybe I should.”

He let her go, and a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding escaped from her lungs.

Rio reassembled the slide and tucked the gun into the back of his pants, leaving the clip on the table. “You can keep that if it makes you feel better,” he said to Beth.

With a shaking hand she reached out and grasped it, tucking it into her jacket pocket for safe keeping. What was _happening?_

Rio pointed menacingly at Dean. “I’m a reasonable guy, Car Man, unless I sense cops on my tail. You feel me?”

Dean turned to Beth, the question written in the one eye he could still hold open. “It’s ok, Dean,” said Beth, not really certain it was true, but happy to get Rio away from her house. Away from Dean. She stood on shaky legs, surprised that her knees were holding. “Don’t call the cops, ok?”

“Beth…this is _insane_ ,” he croaked, glaring at Rio. The crime boss returned his malevolent stare ten-fold.

“No,” said Beth calmly, daring to look Rio in the eyes. “This is business. There’s a bag of peas in the freezer. Put it on your face, ok? And take your pain killers.”

“Beth…”

Dean’s protest came meeker this time, but it still seemed to annoy the _hell_ out of Rio. He snaked an arm around Beth’s waist and abruptly tugged her against him. The hard line of his lithe body against hers made her gasp. “Happy anniversary!” Rio sang out over his shoulder, and he forcibly pulled Beth towards the door.

Only once outside on the walkway did Beth manage to squirm away, shoving at Rio. In that moment she _hated_ how _good_ it felt to let him manhandle her, _in front of Dean_. He let her go—she had no delusions on that score. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Obviously,” he retorted with a dark look, gripping her elbow and steering her towards his black Cadillac parked on the street. “Get in the fucking car.”

“ _Where_ are we going?”

“Don’t make a scene for the neighbors, baby girl.”

With a huff she did as she was told, wondering if Rio would keep his word, or if she was allowing him to drive her to a more convenient place to kill her and dismember her body for safe keeping. Either way—she didn’t really have a choice.


	2. A Nice Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth glimpses a different side of Rio.

# 2\. A Nice Girl

 

They drove in silence, Rio stone faced as a gargoyle. She hadn’t been fooled by his joking manner in the house. Dean’s face spoke all she needed to know about the volcano rumbling underneath Rio’s cool façade.

Beth didn’t dare break the peace of the car, settling for watching her surroundings with a careful eye. Now and then the headlights of an oncoming car illuminated Rio’s angular features, and despite everything that had happened she still found him handsome in an exotic way she’d never known she appreciated.

Soon the wide avenues and sprawling strip malls gave way to the tightly clustered neighborhoods of the inner city. Modest houses lined the blocks, brick and clapboard homes that had once housed the workers of the booming auto industry. That long-passed time of prosperity was reflected in the condition of the dwellings, broken windows and crumbling woodwork like broken teeth and black eyes in their once respectable facades.

It seemed like everyone in the neighborhood was out on their front porch, watching Rio’s solemn black Cadillac roll by. Beth noticed as the demographic of the neighborhood shifted from dominantly African American to mostly Latino. Though she’d watched the street signs and could have found herself on a map, this was not a part of Detroit she was familiar with, and certainly not a place she would have dared walk down the street alone.

“Welcome to my hood,” said Rio with a humorless little huff of laughter. Beth didn’t understand the joke. He waved with two fingers lifted on the steering wheel to a particularly hard looking man walking slow down the crumbling sidewalk. Beth smiled that awkward _I am a white person so out of my element_ smile and Rio paid her a sliding glance.

“Don’t do that, darlin’.”

“Why? I was just being polite.”

“Because it makes you look like food.”

Beth made an effort to wipe any semblance of emotion from her face, looking out the other window. She supposed the rules of the jungle applied here—these mean streets were Rio’s world.

Rio came to a stop before a craftsman style home that was small but decidedly in better repair than its neighbors. The siding was dark brown, the trim around the windows and eaves white. It looked crisp, clean, masculine. They could just make out the shadow of someone sitting on the front porch, the sight of which made Rio swear under his breath as he turned off the car. “Shit. Let me do the talking, yeah?”

As if she would have had it any other way, Beth nodded and followed Rio’s lead, getting out of the car. A small chill ran down her spine. Was this person a threat? She was suddenly very aware that she held the clip to his gun in her coat pocket.

As they neared closer Beth beheld a _tiny_ middle-aged Latina woman with short permed hair sitting in one of the porch chairs, flanked by a man who looked like a much younger less tattooed Rio. Like machine gun fire rapid Spanish spouted from the little woman’s mouth, and she leapt out of her chair as Rio mounted the steps. He could hardly get a word in edge-wise as she advanced on him, stabbing a finger into his chest to punctuate her sentences. Beth couldn’t make out any of it—four years of high school Spanish did not prepare her for this. As abruptly as the woman had exploded into anger, she melted into tears in Rio’s arms, and Beth’s heart broke a little as she watched him hold her.

This was Rio’s _mother_. Beth had no doubt in her mind about that, and in that moment she felt like the lowest life-form on earth for having tried to put Rio in prison.

Rio also spoke in Spanish at the top of the woman’s head. Beth made out one word over and over. _Nada._

Nothing.

He was surely telling her that the Feds had nothing on him.

Suddenly, Beth was very glad of that. She found that she hoped it was true.

In time Rio’s mother quieted, pulling back and wiping her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

“ _Quien es ella_?”

Beth’s wide eyes turned to Rio, curious how he would introduce her.

“ _Mam_ _í, le presentó a Beth, mi amiga._ ” The small woman gave Beth an exacting once-over, and she could tell exactly where Rio had gotten that intense black stare. There was a long tense moment during which Beth kind of felt she was standing before a firing squad, before the woman’s full lips curled.

“Hello,” she said in accented English, holding out her hand. “I am Dolores. This is my other, son, Ricardo. How do you know my Rio?” A twinkle of curiosity shone in eyes like polished black stones, and Rio hissed with annoyance.

Before Beth could get a word in Rio answered, “We work together. And we have important things to discuss, so _ándale_ , both of you. Ricky, take her home. I’ll drop by tomorrow, I promise.”

Dolores frowned at Rio’s explanation. “But she looks like such a nice girl.”

Beth’s hands flew to her mouth to cover her startled laughter. If only this woman knew what Beth had tried to do to her son… Beth had a feeling Dolores would turn that berserker Latin fury on Beth in a heartbeat. Beth hovered on the cusp on answering something like _appearances can be deceiving,_ but Rio beat her to the punch, and the words that left his lips left her dumbfounded. “She is a nice girl, Mom. Come on, off you go.”

Dolores pursed her lips but smiled, patting Rio’s cheek. “Stay out of trouble, _mijo._ ”

Rio huffed, a gruff sound that made both Dolores and Ricky smile wider as they passed by down the steps. Ricky winked at Beth as he passed by. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said, and if Beth hadn’t been floored before she was ready to hit the ground now.

“Um…likewise,” she answered politely, winning a little laugh.

Shooting daggers at his little bro, Rio said something too quick for Beth to decipher, and shook his fist at the young man, then pretended to punch him. Laughing, Ricky jumped down the last three steps and slung his arm around Dolores, leading her to the passenger side of a newish red Nissan.

Dolores and Ricky waved as they drove away, and for the second time that night Beth found her eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold them back, but in the end there was too much and they streamed down her cheeks.

_What had she done?_

“Oh no, I ain’t dealin’ with two weepy females tonight,” grumbled Rio, tugging at Beth’s elbow to get her moving up the steps. “ _You_ do not get to cry about this.”

“But that was your _mother_. You call her mommy.”

“ _Mam_ _í._ It’s different. But what, you thought I didn’t have one?” He fixed her with that intense stare that made her squirm in her boots, and in the end she had to look away.

“I guess I didn’t really think about it.”

Rio made an unkind sound through his nose. “Looks like you didn’t think about a lot of things, Red.” He noticed a brown paper bag on the chair where Dolores had been sitting. His expression softened as he picked it up, and he worked the key in the door with his other hand.

“You told your brother about me?”

Rio grumbled something under his breath. “A little.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the weirdest situation I ever been in, that’s why.”

Beth’s reply died on her lips at the sound of feet thundering down the hallway—the whole house _shook,_ and she expected a mastiff or a Saint Bernard to round the corner. What skidded across the hardwood floor into Rio’s legs was decidedly shorter, and panted like a ninety year old man who had smoked three packs a day for his entire life. “Chapo!” exclaimed Rio, reaching down to scratch behind the bulldog’s ears. The dark brindled dog wiggled excitedly, but was so stocky he could not turn fully one way or the other. Its nub of a tail vibrated with excitement.

“You named your dog el Chapo?”

Rio flashed his first genuine smile of the night, though it wasn’t for her. “What? He’s short.” _Chapo_ continued to dance—and pant—and hack, Beth watched with equal parts amusement and horror. “Go outside?” asked Rio, and the dog thundered into the next room, supposedly to the back door.

“Lock that,” instructed Rio, kicking off his shoes and gesturing towards the front door.

“Um, sorry, habit,” said Beth, turning the deadbolt.

“Yeah, I noticed. How you think I always get into your house?”

“I don’t _always_ leave it unlocked,” Beth protested.

“Nah, but you leave a spare key under the mat. Could you make it any easier?”

“Is that how you got in my house tonight?” she dared ask.

“Nope. Car Man don’t lock the door either.”

Beth followed Rio’s lead in taking off her shoes at the door, but paused in drawing down the zipper of her boot. “Did you ambush him?” she asked cautiously, wondering what exactly had gone down between Rio and Dean before she got home.

Bitter laugher sent a cold chill down her spine. “Nah, baby. He had a fighting chance. Your husband’s just a pussy, is all.”

“He was in a car accident,” she said absently, not really defending Dean but more stating facts.

“Mmm hmm. He’s still a pussy. And a pain in the ass. And I was in the mood to break something, and I couldn’t take it out on you.”

Beth worried her lip at hearing that, but before she could say more Rio breezed into the other room, supposedly to let el Chapo out to peepee. It gave her the opportunity to look around a little. From the foyer she could see the living room and the kitchen. It was small but well kempt. Dark, but stylish, from the hardwood floors to the black leather couches and lacquered wood furniture. There was a huge flat screen on the far wall that looked _insanely_ expensive. And _art._ What looked like _real_ paintings, not the crappy art prints you buy at Hobby Lobby—like she had on her own walls.

On bare feet she padded into the kitchen, and found more of the same. White cabinets, gleaming black subway tile backsplash, shiny new appliances. The kitchen island was topped with what looked like real black marble. There was fruit in a silver bowl on the island, and for some reason she fixated on this detail, and the tears started to well again.

Was this what Rio wanted to show her? His home? His _sanctuary_? The fact that he was not in fact a dark genie that just materialized in her kitchen to terrorize her, but a man with a life and people and at least one animal who loved him?

“You hungry?” asked Rio, cruising into the room with all the confidence of a king in his castle. Chapo trotted in close on his heels, looking very pleased to have his master home. Rio dug into the brown paper bag, producing a glass dish of some sort of rolled up food. “I’m starving. You know what they serve you in jail? Bologna on white bread. _Disgusting_.”

Beth’s stomach did a nose dive. “Rio…”

He held up a finger to silence her, not ready to hear an apology yet, if ever. He sniffed the dish and an expression of peace came over his angular features. There was really no other way to describe it. “They’re still warm. We gotta eat these. You’re in for a treat. My _mommy_ makes the best tamales around.”

He opened a cabinet and produced some plates, silverware, and glasses. One was for water, and apparently the other was for tequila, which he rested on the island between the two place settings.

“Have a seat.” It was somewhere between an invitation and an order, and Beth did as she was told, sliding into one of the tall chairs at the island. They did not speak over this late-night repast, but Rio was right. They were the best tamales Beth had ever tasted, and they filled the belly with a satisfying weight and warmth that made her feel more relaxed than she probably should have.

They seemed to have the same effect on Rio, who sat back in his chair with a sigh after he finished, closing his eyes momentarily. But soon he came back to life, and reached out to pour two shots of tequila. He held up his glass to toast, and questioningly Beth mirrored him. Their eyes met over the tops of their glasses, the amber liquid gleaming like gold in the bright light of the kitchen. Rio’s gaze was dark, intense, and perfectly inscrutable. Beth’s heart did a flip in her chest.

Finally he spoke. “Here’s to you, Red. With a little more experience in this game you’ll be dangerous.”

Beth froze as she watched Rio down his shot with barely a grimace. The way he’d worded the toast made it sound like she would be continuing to play, which needless to say seemed like the last thing Rio would want. She didn’t understand _any_ of this, and finally out of pure frustration she tipped the tequila back and savored the burn as it slid down her throat, pooling like golden fire in her belly.

“I thought you fired me.”

He nodded, smiling to himself, laughing a little at some joke she really did not understand.

“I tried, didn’t I? I was gonna let you go, but you just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“I told you, I thought you were going to kill me.”

Rio just rolled his eyes. “Then I would have killed you at the warehouse, Beth. Why would I let you skip off to cause more trouble?” He laughed again, and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Which you did, didn’t you? I gotta say I’m kinda impressed you rolled the same grocery store _twice_ and didn’t get caught. You girls should try a bank next.”

“Rio…this isn’t _funny._ ”

“Nah, it’s not, but I better fucking laugh about it or somethin’ bad is gonna happen.”

Beth thought about Dean’s face and wondered what Rio considered really _bad._

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, fear rippling over her skin again.

“Because I clearly gotta keep an eye on you while I decide what the hell to do with you.”

It wasn’t exactly a _heartening_ explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting! Love to hear from readers, it makes my day! :D


	3. Suburban Mamma Machiavelli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it all comes to a head...

# 3\. Suburban Mamma Machiavelli

 

“Let’s go sit on the couch.”

Beth watched as he left the kitchen for the living room, falling down onto the plush black leather sofa. More slowly she went to join him, and watched with curiosity as he opened a secret drawer in the coffee table. Her blood froze in her veins as she glimpsed the nickel plating of another gun, but that wasn’t what Rio was after. He shut the drawer and deftly began rolling something on the black lacquered coffee table.

Slowly she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, folding her legs neatly underneath her and hugging a pillow to her lap. Chapo lay down like a log at Rio’s feet and in three seconds began to snore as loud as a grown man.

“Want some?” he asked, offering her the freshly rolled blunt.

Mystified, Beth shook her head, and Rio smiled to himself before lighting up and taking a long hit. Immediately he seemed to relax even more, sprawling his long limbs across the big sofa.

“You were right, in a way,” he finally spoke, staring at the ceiling. “The practical thing would have been to kill you, and your little girlfriends too. But I thought you understood…that I liked you.”

Beth closed her eyes, a long sigh escaping her lips. Hearing those words made some knot in her heart release, even if just a little. “I thought you liked me,” she answered cautiously. “Until you used me to bait the cops with the truck.”

“Baby…” He shook his head, and leaned forward to rest the fat blunt in an ashtray. “That truck was _empty._ You were never in danger. No cop was going to arrest _you_ for driving an empty truck. My boys though? They can get arrested for just _looking_ the way they do. You feel me?”

Beth’s hands clenched into fists on her lap. “But I didn’t _know_ it was empty!”

“That was the point. _No one_ but me knew it was empty. It was my canary in the coal mine, and in this business you just gotta accept that there are some things only I know.”

Beth’s frustration mounted to a tipping point once more, and her voice raised to the verge of yelling. “Why couldn’t you just _tell_ me that? You could have told me _all_ this at the warehouse and _none_ of this would have happened!”

Rio remained cool, but glared across the couch at her. “Because I’d already ironed out ten other fucked up situations that night and you threw _keys_ in my face and I was pissed off. You didn’t keep your cool and I decided it was best you got out of my world before you really got hurt. You’re welcome, by the way.”

So angry she trembled, Beth gripped the pillow on her lap like she wanted to strangle it.

“Then you looked at me like you wanted to murder me! You got all cool and scary and told me to go home and disappeared without another word and _who the fuck does that in real life_?”

With a magnificent frown Rio scooted closer to Beth on the couch, and she instinctively tried to lean away. There was nowhere else to go, however, and so she watched him like a mouse watches an approaching viper. He spoke slowly, like one would explain something to a child. “I was _upset_ ‘cuz I thought I would never see you again. It. Made. Me. _Sad_.”

This revelation hit Beth like a ton of bricks, and her anger gave way to total bewilderment. Blue eyes held wide, she stared at Rio with an open mouth. “ _What_?”

For the first time in their entire acquaintance Rio looked _uncomfortable_. “Jesus Christ. Never mind, Mamma, forget it.”

He began to stand from the couch as though to flee, but in a sudden frenzy Beth reached out to grab him, not about to let him escape this time. “Wait!” It seemed like all their interactions happened so quickly that only later did she really get a chance to realize what the _hell_ was going on, and she was tired of it. She pulled on his wiry arm, maybe too hard. He fell back—on top of her. She might have cried out in surprise had Rio’s mouth not found hers, his hand in her hair holding her to him.

The sound that emitted from deep in her throat was _not_ protest, and without thinking she pulled him closer with a hand behind his neck, deepening the kiss. What had been a complete tangle of limbs somehow sorted out as Rio let his weight settle down upon her, exploring the depths of her mouth with his own. He drew back with a shaky sigh, resting his bruised forehead against hers. “So…it’s not just me that’s lost my damn mind,” he deadpanned.

Beth laughed, knowing she sounded _a little_ bit insane. “No. Do that again.” Rio needed very little encouragement to proceed to kiss her silly, and Beth couldn’t stop herself from wrapping a leg around him, pulling him against her center. In the same way it seemed Rio couldn’t stop himself from rolling his hips against hers, and she could feel _exactly_ how happy he was to be there. In the same manner her hands wandered, slipping under his t-shirt to investigate the lean planes of muscle of his back. His skin was warm and smooth and she was so _hungry_ for the feel of him, this prize she’d admittedly ogled more times than she could count but never had the courage to reach out and touch.

Her explorations drew a rumbling growl from deep in Rio’s chest. “You should prolly tell me to stop,” he advised between kisses marching down her neck and chest, his nose nudging aside the collar of her shirt to expose the tender mound of her cleavage. His tongue disappeared inside her bra and Beth could do nothing but tilt her head back and sigh, her nails grazing the curve of his skull in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she informed him breathily. “I want you…to do whatever you want to do with me.”

A dark little chuckle sent a thrill down Beth’s spine. “That might be a dangerous invitation, baby girl.”

“It seems like the least I owe you.”

“I don’t want this if you givin’ it because you think you _owe_ me.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not.” He pulled back again to look into her eyes, and she traced the lines of his face gently with the tips of her fingers. The abrasion on his forehead had turned an angry red. “Your poor face.”

Rio went very still above her. “I guess Car Man got a few good licks in.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rio laughed a little at the irony of her apology. “He don’t know you at all, you know.”

“I know.”

“That’s kinda why I lost it. He came at me with some shit about bounce houses and how I took advantage of you…it pissed me off.”

After everything else that had happened that day, the thought that _that_ was what pushed Rio over the edge made Beth close her eyes and press her lips to his again. She did not stop—and he did not stop—until they were naked and entangled inextricably on the black leather sofa, locked in that timeless and eternal moment of perfect bliss. Beth came with Rio’s name on her lips and stars dancing behind her eyes, and she couldn’t remember a moment so intensely unspoiled in her life since Emma was born.

Exhausted, they dozed in a satiated tangle of limbs. At some point Rio pulled a blanket around them against the night’s chill, and they slept some more. Rio was warm and lean and his long body tucked around hers left Beth with the most complete sensation of _peace_ that she didn’t want to move for _days_.

Later, a few blocks away there was a loud _crack crack crack_ that made Beth sit up a little from her nest with Rio. Perhaps it was a mother’s instinct to react to a strange noise, but Rio pulled her back into his arms with a protective hand over her skull. “Head down, baby. Always the best policy ‘round here.”

“Was that _gun fire_?”

“Well, it sure wasn’t fireworks.”

“You’re used to it, I guess.”

Rio stroked the length of her red hair pensively, quiet for a long time. She thought he’d fallen asleep again when he finally answered, “I don’t think you ever get _used_ to it, mamma. You just…get numb. It’s different.”

His words inspired a surprising pain in Beth’s heart, and she pulled him closer. “Then why do you stay here? Jesus Christ, Rio, I’ve seen your money. You’ve got to be filthy rich. Why don’t you just _leave_?”

Again he was quiet, curling a lock of her hair around his long finger and pulling gently. It sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, and she tucked herself in the hollow beneath his chin. “You know how they got Capone?”

“I don’t know. Probably murder charges or something, didn’t he kill a lot of people?”

She felt his laughter more than heard it. “Tax evasion. They got him for not paying his fucking taxes. Ain’t that some shit?”

“So…”

“So I gotta make it all look legit. I’m working on it.”

“OK.”

“It would happen quicker if my best earner would come back to work for me.”

Beth pulled back to look at him, and damn if those big blue eyes didn’t make him feel _goofy_ inside. What the hell had this woman done to him? “You mean that?”

“Yeah, you’re like some kind of Suburban Mamma Machiavelli. You wash more cash than anyone else I got, and in less time too.”

Beth laughed, feeling warm all over. He’d never really complimented her, or her secret-shopper scheme. “Thanks, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What?”

“You really want _me_ back?”

“You promise not to try an’ put me away again? Cuz I gotta be honest, I’d rather you just shot me than sent me to the pen.”

The fact that he was joking about it so soon seemed like a good sign. It also probably didn’t hurt that she was naked in his arms.

“Yeah, I guess I can promise that. Maybe you can let me in a little though, when you’re up to something and my ass is on the line.”

Rio chuckled, palming the ample body part in question with a sound of appreciation. “Mamma, you can take it to the bank that this fine backside is very dear to me. Mmm. These too,” he said, kissing her lips. “And these valuable _assets_ as well…” She squirmed with delight as he ran his hands over her curves, weighing one breast in his hand. He rolled her nipple gently between his fingers, and immediately Beth felt that tell-tale ache to have him inside her again. By the stiffening bulge against her belly she could tell she was not the only one, and she lifted her leg over his hip, guiding the tip of him inside her. Rio made a sound that easily could have been mistaken for pain, his teeth grazing the pale curve of her shoulder. “Hold up, darlin’, unless you really wantin’ baby number five.”

He withdrew and reached for the inlaid wood box on the coffee table where he stored the useful unmentionables of the living room, such as remotes—and condoms. Beth bit her lip as she hungrily watched him wrap himself up, his body so toned and tattooed and toasted brown and _perfect_ from head to toe. Her mind drifted treacherously to what a child of theirs might be like, and the only answer she could come up with was _beautiful._

“Shit, mamma, you’re actually thinkin’ about it,” said Rio with an infuriatingly smug half-smile, spreading her legs and easing inside her. Already, she was soaking wet again for him, and he’d never known anything sweeter.

“No…” she protested, unable to stop smiling. “Maybe. Jesus, I can’t think _at all_ while you do that,” she informed him, relishing the sensation of his thumb circling her clit as he filled her to the hilt.

Rio chuckled, and closed his eyes to savor his own pleasure as her wet pussy squeezed him like a fist. There were no more words until Rio brought them both to a scintillating completion, and even then they were of the four-letter variety.

Again, they dozed, and only as dawn began lightening the world outside did Beth ask, “So what _did_ you tell your brother about me?”

Rio groaned. “Nah, that’s not your need to know, baby.”

“That good, eh?”

He caressed the line of her cheek with his thumb. “Now my _Mamí’s_ gonna be after me too. I could tell that she liked you.”

Beth sighed and hid against his chest once more. “She wouldn’t like me if she knew everything.”

“Only you and me know everything, and its best we keep it that way, yeah?”

Beth supposed if his boys knew she’d tried to put them away it could make for a bit of a hostile work environment. “OK.”

“Good.”

“And Rio?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

He huffed but she could tell it was mostly for show. “Remind me not to make you mad again. Hell hath no fury like a redhead scorned...”

“But you forgive me?”

“Yeah. Forget about it.”

Though Beth knew they would never really be able to _forget_ about it, as Rio pulled her close again she couldn’t help but think it had all been rather _worth it._

**_*~The End~*_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! Your comments make my day!! <3<3<3
> 
> p.s. did i mention bethxriorideordie is my new Brio tumblr? Come find me! ::muah!::
> 
>  
> 
> If you like my writing see my profile for info about my original fiction... <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Your comments make my day!! :D


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